


Warm Tones

by Cassidae



Series: Color By Number [1]
Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Coffee Shops, College, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, autumn vibes, happy first of october!, i'm fitting all the cliche fluffy aus into this, this was supposed to be a one-shot but now it's a series, totally necessary use of song lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 10:02:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16156784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassidae/pseuds/Cassidae
Summary: Warm Tones:a phrase used to describe any color that is vivid or bold in nature. They tend to advance in space and can be overwhelming. Examples include red, yellow and orange.It’s fall, when he meets Jack. The fact that it happens to him at this particular time and place could be a total coincidence. But something in Sammy says it’s more. For a time, it makes him believe that the universe really does know what it’s doing. That, for once, it might be on his side.[ AU where you see in black and white until you meet your Soulmate and then you see in full color. Or, at least you should. ]





	Warm Tones

It’s fall, when he meets Jack.

There has always been proof that fate and destiny are real things with tangible consequences on their tiny lives. Songs, poetry, writings, and paintings that date back thousands of years, all detailing a person’s passage from a world without color to one overflowing with it. Something out there has given them the opportunity to explore and discover the world anew - an experience you can only share with another.

Still, the fact that it happens to him at this particular time and place could be a total coincidence. But something in Sammy says it’s more. For a time, it makes him believe that the universe really does know what it’s doing. That, for once, it might be on his side.

( That belief dies, later, stabbed in the dark without a whisper of goodbye and left to grow cold and rot.

But that is later, and this is now. That future has no effect on their beginning. )

********

 

Sammy has a few semesters under his belt by now, so he mostly knows what he’s doing when it comes to college. Perhaps the most important lesson he’s learned is to arrange his schedule so he doesn’t have to be out of bed before 9 AM. Right behind that is to make time for a coffee break in the afternoon - not an actual lunch, of course, because those crowds are ludicrous and most of the food sucks anyway.

Oh, and his classes are full of important stuff, too. Just not as important as his caramel latte.

For once, he’s not running a mad dash across the quad to get to his next class on time. In fact, he’d even call this a leisurely stroll. He’s maybe halfway finished with his drink, walking among the other students instead of weaving through them, and it’s that easy pace that lets him notice the small crowd. They're off to the side, gathered near a tree, and they seem excited about something. A club booth with some kind of handouts, probably.

But, then they all start… applauding? He can hear the cheers from here, halfway across the quad. Okay, now that’s unusual. Either that club has a really great hypeman, or something genuinely cool is happening.

Sammy checks his watch, gives his cup a quick shake, and decides he has enough time to kill and coffee to drink to indulge his curiosity. He changes direction and continues his stroll, now towards the group.

As he gets closer, he hears… music. Singing, along with an acoustic guitar. This is more than just someone practicing in the fair weather, it’s a straight-up performance - a good one, if all the clapping people are any indication.

And he is good, Sammy realizes once he’s close enough to really hear him.

_“Time flies by in the yellow and green,  
Stick around and you’ll see what I mean.”_

There’s too many people to get a good look at the singer - and that shouldn’t matter, but somehow it does. Sammy shuffles to the very edge of the crowd, wiggling between a couple people to get to the front. There’s a light buzzing just beneath his skin that he attributes to the caffeine.

_“There’s a mountaintop that I’m dreaming of.  
If you need me, you know where I’ll be.”_

Finally, Sammy sees him. The guy’s seated himself on top of a picnic table, seemingly as comfy as can be. He’s not looking Sammy’s way right now, but even in profile he’s a nice view. Handsome face, beautiful voice and melody - no wonder he’s drawn a crowd. Maybe he didn’t even mean to, but he’s handling himself in front of an audience just fine.

The guy’s clearly never heard of stage fright. As he goes into the chorus, he stands up on the bench, then smoothly steps up to the top of the table. He grins at them from his new elevated position, like he’s on a small stage with the leaves of the tree serving as a backdrop.

_“I’ll be riding shotgun, underneath the hot sun,  
Feeling like a someone.”_

The crowd loves it. They break out into encouraging cheers, and Sammy thinks he sees the man’s cheeks turn the slightest bit darker. But, embarrassment or no, he doesn’t falter for even a moment.

_“I’ll be riding shotgun, underneath the hot sun,  
Feeling like a someone.”_

It’s a very summery song, completely at odds with the chill in the air and the dead leaves scattered across the ground. Maybe that’s another reason everyone likes it so much; it’s a reminder of the fun, stress-free summer they just finished, and holds the promise of the ones to come.

_“We got two in the front,”_ He sings, then points to two girls standing front and center. They giggle and cheer on cue, and the man shoots them a smile that’s sure to make their hearts stutter. Or maybe that’s just Sammy.

He strums another chord. _“We got two in the back,”_ He continues, pointing to somewhere in the back and is met with even louder cheers. He laughs a little, like he didn’t really expect that to work, and it’s music in its own right.

_“Sailing along,  
And we don’t look back…”_

The man keeps strumming, but instead of singing the next lyric he starts doing a little dance on the tabletop. Sammy doesn’t know how he’s doing that footwork and isn’t afraid of falling and breaking his neck. But, somehow, he make it look easy - thoughtless, effortless, and as smooth as a summer breeze.

_“Time flies by in the yellow and green,”_ He resumes and stops the dance, but keeps tapping one foot to the beat. He looks around and nods at the crowd, and they start clapping along.

Sammy has absolutely no rhythm, so he wouldn’t try to join in even if he didn’t have a mostly-forgotten drink in hand. But he wonders if the singer actually knows what yellow and green look like yet. He tries not to wonder too much.

The man’s eyes land on Sammy and the rest of his thoughts fizzle out. _“Stick around and you’ll see what I mean,”_ He sings, then grins and winks right at him.

In that split second of an eye opening and closing, everything begins to change.

It starts at the man’s eyes, which turn a color he would come to know is really many different shades of brown. Then it spreads to his skin, warming it to life, and across his shirt to what he would learn is a deep red.

Probably on muscle memory, the man’s already started the next lyric.

_“There’s a mountaintop that I’m dre…”_ He begins, but doesn’t finish. Can’t, not when his mouth is hanging open.

Sammy can only guess at what the man sees, wide eyes fixed at some point beyond the crowd. But from his perspective, the bloom of color just keeps going, radiating out from the man and lighting the world on fire. The leaves behind him burst into blazing shades of red and orange and yellow, and the man is the burning star in the center.

Somewhere in Sammy, there’re duel feelings of panic relief - because it _is_ a guy, but it’s also a _guy._ This man, this moment, is both proof of the feelings he’s held all his life and the final piece of a picture he wished he didn’t fit into. In one blow, he’s validated and branded.

But the loss of denial makes room the warmth blooming in his chest, complementing the dizzying display of colors he sees. He does his best to commit this moment and image to memory, because wow is it a stunning picture

The man stands there, wide-eyed and frozen in the very picture of wordless wonder. He’s a classical figure dropped into a vibrant impressionist painting, a fine sculpture in front of a canvas of dappled paint strokes, and Sammy is helpless but to admire.

Then the guitarist comes back to life and his head is turning everywhere - up and down and side to side, trying to look at everything at once. The moment breaks and Sammy realizes he hasn’t taken a breath in a while, and once he does his ears pop with sound - namely, the confused murmuring of the crowd.

But the man’s voice rings through that, clear as a bell.

“I-I’m sorry, everyone, but-but I’m just… I’m seeing…” He stops, then laughs, much louder and brighter than before. “I’m seeing _color!_ Who-who else is? Like, just now? I’m not sure who it was - there’s just a lot of you, and it spread so quickly…”

The noise ticks up several notches, but Sammy’s still frozen stiff. What does he do? Shout _‘It’s me’?_ Raise his hand? Step forward and expect the guy to fall into his arms? That wouldn’t end well - Sammy knows his own strength and it’s definitely not that.

_“Anyone?”_ The man asks, voice a pitch higher than before. “C’mon - I can’t look _that_ bad, right?” He smiles a little, though it’s nothing like the glowing grin he had moments before, and runs a hand through his hair nervously. It makes his hair stick up in a way Sammy can’t help but find adorable, the image of an Adonis replaced with something closer to a bedhead.

Some people chuckle, but still nothing happens. And nothing will until Sammy actually moves his ass.

Sammy steels himself and manages to take a small step forward. Then another. It barely takes him beyond the edge of the crowd, but it’s enough to catch his attention. The man stares for several moments, his cheeks slowly turning a different color than the rest of his face.

“Oh my god, _it’s you?”_ He asks, and, well, Sammy has no idea what to make of that.

Before Sammy can answer, someone behind him shoves him forward. He stumbles into the clearing around the table and almost spills his drink on the way, but then there are two warm hands holding his arms steady. He hadn’t even noticed the man _move,_ but suddenly he’s _right there_ in his space and grinning from ear to ear and Sammy’s having trouble remembering to breathe again. He thinks he hears laughter, or cheers, or both, but he also doesn’t think it matters right now.

He manages to draw enough air to answer “Y-yeah, me,” but his voice cracks horribly. His face feels warm and all he wants to do is duck his head, but the man’s bright eyes hold him fast.

“Cool,” The man says, still grinning and so close and so colorful and Sammy has to do _something_ in response. Sammy manages a tentative smile in return, and he would think he had imagined hearing that sharp intake of breath if there wasn’t almost no space between them. The man seems to realize he’s still holding onto Sammy and lets go, and Sammy tries not to feel colder for it.

The guitar, still hanging over his front, makes a hollow sound when it thunks back against the man’s body as he takes a step back. He slides it around so it’s hanging on his back, then clears his throat and offers his hand for a proper greeting. “Hi! I’m Jack - Jack Wright,” He introduces, then hesitates for a moment before adding shyly “... your Soulmate.”

Then, because Sammy’s an idiot and running completely on autopilot right now, he shakes Jack’s hand and says “Thanks.”

Jack blinks at him, then starts laughing. It’s even more beautiful up close, but Sammy can’t properly appreciate it because _did he really just that?_ Sammy takes back his hand so he can cover his face with it, because yes, he actually did just thank the guy for being his Soulmate. _That’s_ the first impression he makes on the man he’ll probably spend the rest of his life with.

“You’re welcome, I guess,” He hears Jack say, then freezes when he feels careful fingers prying the hand off his face. Somewhere in Sammy’s mortified mind, he registers the calluses doting those fingers from hours of playing. But then there’s Jack - handsome, talented Jack, bathed in warm colors and looking more amazing than his wildest dreams - still smiling at him, for some reason, though he’s been nothing but completely stupid so far.

“... You got a name, Shotgun?” Jack asks, still holding Sammy’s hand in both of his and thoughtlessly rubbing his thumbs over his palm and not helping Sammy think _at all._ He’s never really thought of himself as having soft hands before, but right now all he can focus on are the places where Jack’s feel rougher and how they might feel holding his face.

He’s still not saying anything and just staring like an idiot. He fishes around for something, but the only thing he can do is echo that word that’s bouncing around in his hollow head. “Shotgun?” 

The question makes Jack’s face change color even more. Apparently, that’s what a blush looks like. He wonders if his own face is the same color. Most likely.

“Th-that’s, uh, the song I was singing. It’s called ‘Shotgun’,” He explains, chuckling a little. “God, I am so glad I decided to play outside today, and that you walked over, and that we’re at the same school…” He trails off, and the look on his face reminds Sammy of that wonderstruck expression from just a minute ago. But instead of being because of the wide, beautiful world it’s all concentrated and directed at _him._

Something churns in his stomach, not heavy and familiar like his anxiety but light and bubbly like a foreign sort of happiness. He doesn’t know what to do with the feeling but keep riding it out.

“You’re good,” Sammy says, because it’s the truth. “Are you a music major?” He’d probably slap himself for that stupid question if his hands weren’t full - one with a drink, and the other with Jack’s hands.

But Jack chuckles and it makes Sammy relaxes a bit. He’s so obviously happy it’s making him a little lightheaded from the proximity alone. “I guess you can never really escape the basic college small talk, huh?” Jack asks, and Sammy’s scared for a moment that he’ll have to come up with an answer, but then he continues. “But, no, music’s just a hobby I’ve done since I was a kid. I’m actually a journalism major.”

“Me too,” Sammy blurts, maybe a little too quickly. But now he has Jack’s full attention and he forces himself to keep talking. “Same major, and I… I play piano.”

“Really?” Jack asks, beaming like the sun again. Sammy wonders if the real sun is as yellow as he’s heard, but he doesn’t want to look away right now to check. He’s not sure if he can. “That’s awesome! Do- wait, are you free right now? We can talk, like over coffee or something.”

“Yeah,” Sammy answers, even though he’s currently holding a coffee cup and his next class is starting soon. He can already tell he’ll never be able say no to Jack Wright.

“Great!” Jack exclaims, squeezing Sammy’s hand in his excitement. Sammy instinctively glances down when he does, and Jack’s eyes follow his. “Sorry! I keep doing that,” He chuckles a little, more awkward than his other laughs, then starts to let go. Something in Sammy jerks in protest, but he tamps down on the urge to grab Jack’s hand back.

Jack runs one of his freed hands through his hair, again, making it stick up at odd angles even more. It’s incredibly endearing.

“So… coffee?” Jack repeats, almost shy as he looks up at him and nothing like the confident performer from before. He’s just a bit shorter than Sammy - enough that, this close, he has to tilt his chin a little to meet his eyes.

“Yeah,” Sammy says again, a broken record. Jack lights up all over again, like with that simple answer he’s given him the best news ever. It’s contagious, and suddenly Sammy finds himself smiling harder than he thinks he ever has in his life. He kind of wishes Jack were still holding onto him, because he feels like he could float away right now.

From somewhere to the right someone goes _“Aww”,_ and that’s when they both remember that they were in a crowd when all this started. They turn at the same time, and Sammy’s briefly relieved to see that almost everyone has dispersed - almost, because there’s a girl just a few steps away with her phone pointed right at them.

“Uh - hi?” Jack says, clearly surprised but remaining polite.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” She jumps, taps something on the screen, then lowers it to look properly at Jack. “I _know_ it’s super impolite to intrude on an SM moment, but I was already recording your singing and I caught the moment you saw each other and I just didn’t stop because I thought that maybe you’d like to have the video for the future but I can delete it, like, right now if you want,” She says quickly, and possibly all in one breath.

“That’s… thoughtful,” Jack says carefully. For the moment, Sammy’s happy to let him do the talking - considering his track record the past few minutes, that is. “I mean, please don’t keep it or share it, but… send it to me first?” He asks, shooting a sideways glance at Sammy to check with him. But, as embarrassing as all that was, Sammy has no protests and he gives a little nod of consent.

“Of course!” She says brightly.

Sammy stands awkwardly to the side as Jack taps his number into her phone, and a moment later Jack’s pocket buzzes. He grins as he scans through the video and thanks her earnestly. She shows them as she’s deleting it from her phone, which Sammy appreciates.

“But you have to play again sometime, okay? So I can get a video I can keep,” She tells Jack afterwards.

“Sure! I’ll text you when I do,” He promises.

“Sweet! Now I’ve gotta get to class. But, congrats you two!” She grins and waves goodbye as she rushes off.

“C’mon, Shotgun,” Jack says, stealing every ounce of Sammy’s attention back in an instant. All he has to do is nod in the direction he wants to go and Sammy’s trailing along in his wake. At this point, Sammy’s utterly convinced that Jack’s a star given human form - the brightest thing around, with an irresistible gravitational pull.

“Sammy,” He corrects, feeling himself blush again because it took _this long_ to pull himself together enough to actually introduce himself. “My name’s Sammy. Stevens.”

“Hmm, catchy,” Jack muses. “A pretty name to match a pretty face,” He adds with _another_ wink. Sammy would start think it’s a nervous tick if it wasn’t always so deliberate and stupidly charming.

“Oh. Thanks,” He says, at this point just a parody of himself. His cheeks can’t _possibly_ get any warmer.

“You’re welcome,” Jack replies, amused.

Oh god, is this going to be a Thing now? Will Jack constantly have to deal with him awkwardly thanking him for existing? Sadly, that sounds like a very real possibility.

Still cursing his stupid mouth, Sammy tosses his unfinished drink in the next trashcan they pass and hopes that Jack didn’t notice it. He somehow hasn’t ruined the moment yet, and he’d like to keep it that way if he can. But as soon as his attention is turned away from Jack, he notices that something’s… off.

He can still see every tree and fallen leaf in vivid color, and everyone’s skin has gone from grayscale to varying warm shades. But, either grey is a lot more popular in fashion than he had thought, or…

Sammy looks up and is met with the same grey sky he’s known all his life, but now with a yellow sun.

********

 

Jack’s not dreaming.

He pinched his arm and everything - but, nope, this is all real. He’s really standing in line for coffee with his Soulmate, who’s possibly the prettiest man he’s ever seen in real life, and everything is in full HD Technicolor.

Sammy hasn’t talked a lot so far, but Jack can chatter enough for them both. He seems nervous and a little distracted, but Jack gets it - everything is _stunning._ Every leaf, brick, tile, and piece of cloth is suddenly a hundred hues that he has no names for yet. He wants to run out and buy a box of crayons just to see all the ridiculous names they have and finally match a sight to them.

And the _sky_ \- he thinks that blue might be his new favorite color, but he knows there’s still so many more shades of it to see.

Jack’s never actually been in the campus Starbucks before, but he can read the names for the sizes and that’s all he needs to know. Sammy orders something that obviously has a _lot_ of sugar in it and Jack tries to hide his laugh with a cough, but by the huffy look Sammy gives him he doesn’t succeed. Even so, he’s pleased because it’s an emotion other than the ‘vaguely stupefied’ he’s seen on him so far.

He’s _so_ excited to get to know his SM.

“I’ll have a grande black coffee-” Jack starts to tell the cashier, but stops when he feels a hand on his shoulder. Sammy has a funny look on his face that’s somewhere between nervous and pained and comes out closer to constipated. Jack successfully tamps down on his laugh this time and waits patiently for Sammy to get his words out.

“You know, you could try… something else,” Sammy says, and Jack hears the ‘anything else’ loud and clear.

“Like what, Shotgun?” He asks, happy to play along if it gets Sammy to blush like that. It’s a very good look on him.

“... Do you like hot chocolate?”

“Yeah, duh. But I also like my caffeine, you know.”

“Have you ever tried a mocha? It’s basically hot chocolate with espresso.”

Jack thinks there’s more detail to it than that, something he’s sure Sammy’s holding himself back on going into, but he’ll give it a try. It’ll be far from the most adventurous thing he’s consumed, and the very last thing he wants to do is mess up already.

When their drinks come out, Sammy’s is piled high with whipped cream and he finds that his mocha actually smells just like hot chocolate. He takes a sip as soon as it’s in his hand, and it’s actually pretty good.

Sammy looks so happy when he tells him so that he doesn’t have the heart to admit that he’s just going to go back to straight black coffee next time, for simplicity’s sake. But if they keep going out for coffee, Jack has a feeling he’s going to end up trying just about everything on the menu.

“I’m glad you like it,” Sammy says with that soft little smile that Jack already treasures. “I was gonna be pretty embarrassed if you didn’t.”

“I’m pretty sure the only dealbreaker for me right now would be if you _literally_ poisoned my drink,” Jack teases. “And even then, I’d be inclined to believe it was an accident.”

“How generous,” Sammy snorts, and Jack can’t help but grin at the hint of sass. But a moment later he shrinks back in on himself, looking away and focusing on his drink again. It might be weird that Jack’s looking forward to getting sassed, but he’s honestly hoping Sammy will grow more comfortable as they go on more dates.

This _is_ a date, right? Jack’s made a lot of assumptions that he probably shouldn’t have, like being all up in his space earlier without asking, but really it’s been all he can do to not jump up and down in excitement this whole time. This is every person’s _dream,_ and it’s not even guaranteed to happen - much less this soon.

But now they need to talk about this, like adults. He can squeal to a probably-shouting Lily later.

To his surprise, it’s Sammy who starts them off. “So… you can really see it?” He asks, finally looking away from his drink. “The colors? All of them?”

“Yeah!” Jack says immediately, his excitement jumping out again despite the promise to himself. “Oh my god, aren’t the trees _incredible?_ I can’t wait until we can see them when they’re all green, too! And I definitely want to just… lie back and cloudwatch sometime soon. The sky’s never looked so big, you know?”

“I… N-no, not really,” Sammy answers, and Jack’s disappointed for a second before he thinks he knows the problem.

“Oh. Wait, did you really see the sky?” Jack asks. “I know that everything at once is a _lot_ and if you forgot to look up that’s fine, there’s a window right over there, but you _really_ need to see it! It’s so-”

“No,” Sammy interrupts, the most forceful he’s been so far, and it makes Jack shut his mouth at once. “I _saw_ it, but it just… doesn’t look any different,” He says, explaining nothing.

“What do you mean?” He asks after a pause, mostly confused but not feeling too bad about it, because he senses that Sammy feels the same.

“I-I _can_ see the colors, just… not all of them?” Sammy says uncertainly, and it immediately clicks in Jack’s brain about what’s happened. But Sammy doesn’t seem to think it’s enough and keeps going. “Like the trees! I can _see_ the trees! They’re… I guess red and orange and yellow, but I don’t know the difference yet. And I can see your shirt, it looks like one of those, and your eyes and skin and the sun. But the sky’s still grey, and so are your pants, and that veggie smoothie the girl in front of us ordered, and I have no clue what all of that _means,”_ He finishes, having nearly worked himself into a panic.

“Sh- _Sammy,_ it’s fine,” Jack assures hurriedly. “It just means you have more than one SM. Only one more, I think, since it sounds like you can see about half.”

He watches Sammy process the explanation, slowly settling down and his breathing returning to normal. “Oh,” He says, then “What?”

Really, it’s not like it’s a _super_ rare phenomenon - Jack really wishes it was more common knowledge. “It’s not as common, obviously, but there’s all kinds of reasons it happens,” He says, thinking back on how his mom explained it to him.

“Some people get multiple romantic partners,” Here, he holds up a hand and raises one finger, then a couple more on the same hand. “And sometimes they’ll all be SMs or share one. Or, the same can be said about platonic SMs.” Next, he raises his other hand so there’s two on one and one on the other. “More often, someone will have one that’s romantic and one that’s platonic. It’s like having two best friends but you just kiss one.” Okay, maybe he’s leaning a little too much on the original, ‘how do I explain this to a six-year-old’ wording, but it seems to be working for Sammy.

He lowers his hands and takes a quick sip of his drink, watching what he will now dub Sammy’s ‘thinking face’ - his brow scrunches up and it makes him look a little older. “The latter is what happened with my mom,” He goes on. “She met her platonic SM when they were little kids and she could see about half the rainbow, then she met my dad and got the other half. Now her best friend lives down the street with his husband and they’re basically my uncles.” His uncles may not be SMs to each other, but they’re incredibly happy together nonetheless and it gave him comfort in case he never found his. Their influence on his fashion sense is another matter entirely.

“I… guess that makes sense,” Sammy says slowly, though he has a weird look like he doesn’t quite believe it. Or doesn’t want to, maybe? Jack’s not sure if it’s a personal thing or if Sammy’s skeptical of _him,_ Jack, his Soulmate. But they’re still strangers to each other, so he can’t really say that it hurts.

“I guess I kind of jumped the gun back there,” Jack acknowledges. When Sammy gives him a confused look, he elaborates. “Well, we’re not necessarily romantic SMs - that could be the other one. Or even not at all? I really don’t know your preferences. I mean, I _hope_ we are,” He adds before he can think better of it.

He realizes just what he said when Sammy blushes brilliantly, and he feels his face warm in turn. “I-I guess I shouldn’t be saying that,” Jack says, even though it’s nothing but the truth. “I’m not trying to be… _pushy,_ or anything. Just putting that out there. How I feel.”

“S’okay,” Sammy mumbles, though he’s not quite looking at Jack anymore. Jack tries not to worry that he did something wrong, because maybe Sammy just needs a little longer to process all this. They’ve got time to sort this out.

Then he sighs, long and drawn out. “Geez, this is a lot less straightforward than I thought,” Sammy says.

Jack doesn’t hesitate to jump on the opening. “Yeah. And _I’m_ a lot less straight, too!” He jokes, shooting a fingergun for good measure.

Sammy gives him the most disappointed look he’s ever received outside of his own family. It reminds him a little of his dad, actually. The thought makes him laugh so hard that his leg hits the table and nearly knocks their drinks over.

“Watch it!” Sammy snaps, reaching over to save Jack’s mocha as well. “God, that was awful,” He mutters.

Jack keeps grinning at him, not sorry in the least. “But it lightened the mood and you didn’t get up and walk away, so I count it as a win.”

“You really need to raise your standards,” Sammy returns, and _there’s_ that sass he saw earlier.

“Why bother? You’ve already surpassed all of them,” He replies smoothly.

“That’s not a compliment like you seem to think it is.”

“You don’t even know what the rest are!”

“I’m not sure I want to if it includes ‘they tolerate my bad gay jokes’.”

“What can I say? I’m very picky. It’s my… _gay Wright.”_

That one takes Sammy a couple seconds and eyebrow wiggles to get, and when he does he actually groans aloud. Jack cackles in delight, then breaks down in full laughter when Sammy flips him off. At least he’s mindful of their drinks this time, though not of the looks sent their way from the surrounding tables.

“I really _should_ get up and walk away,” Sammy grumbles, but Jack can tell he’s fighting a smile. It makes his heart beat a little quicker.

“But you aren’t,” Jack taunts, probably pushing his luck but having too much fun to care. He can see them going on a lot of coffee dates just like this, and the thought makes him feel warm inside. It’s getting harder and harder to keep his hopes down.

“Must be something in my latte,” Sammy suggests flippantly.

“Oh no, did you accidentally poison your own drink instead?”

_“Please_ stop talking.”

“What are you trying to say? I look better when I’m singing?”

“... Maybe,” Sammy admits, trying to hide a smile behind a sip of his drink.

“You wound me!” Jack exclaims, putting a dramatic hand to his chest. “And you say _I’m_ the one that doesn’t know how to give a compliment.”

“Alright, maybe we _both_ need some work,” Sammy concedes, now smiling in full view. It’s small, but it’s there. Jack wants nothing more than to get him to smile like he did for those few precious seconds before, after he agreed to coffee and he was practically _glowing._ But he thinks he likes this quiet side of Sammy, too.

“We could always work on it together,” Jack suggests, less playful this time. Sammy’s smile dims a little, but at least he looks less like a deer in the headlights than the first time he suggested it.

“No expectations,” Jack reiterates, then pauses and runs a hand through his hair. Sammy’s eyes track the motion, and he tries not to get self-conscious. He knows it makes him look ridiculous, but he can’t help it when he’s nervous. “Just… having fun, like this. It’ll be whatever we decide that means. You, me… and whoever else gives you the rest of the rainbow.”

There’s a beat, and Jack still gets the sense that there’s more to this hesitation beneath the surface. But then Sammy says “I think I can do that,” soft but unwavering, and Jack lets his worries get swept aside under a rush of _gratefulness._ Grateful that the universe set them up together, and grateful that Sammy wants to give it a chance despite things not exactly matching expectations.

“Thanks,” Jack says, utterly sincere. Sammy looks at him oddly for a moment, like he’s trying to figure out whether Jack’s making fun of him. But he must realize he’s not, because he relaxes again and returns Jack’s smile.

“You’re welcome,” Sammy replies.

**Author's Note:**

> Confession: In the first draft of this, Sammy was drinking a pumpkin spice latte. My friends argued the validity of this so it was eventually changed. Take this information as you will.
> 
> Wow, I wonder who Sammy's other Soulmate could be? Big Hmm...
> 
> Stay tuned to this series to find out! I wrote it instead of working on my Actual Serious Story for this fandom, oops.
> 
> The song is ["Shotgun" by George Ezra](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WJkVqZu2iMk), and I know it came out in 2018 and doesn't work with the timeline but. C'mon. It's too perfect.
> 
> You can find me on my podcast sideblog on tumblr [@podcastsmakemecry](https://podcastsmakemecry.tumblr.com/)


End file.
